


An Under the Table Job

by casanovica



Category: Avenged Sevenfold, Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, M/M, Merch Booth, inappropriate use of merch tables, inappropriate use of puns, warped 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casanovica/pseuds/casanovica
Summary: Frank approaches Zacky at his merch booth in the summer of 2005 with a proposition. The job he's looking to do is a little under the table, though.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Zacky Vengeance
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Warped 2020





	An Under the Table Job

**Author's Note:**

> hi! it’s me here with something no one asked for and no one wants! take it anyway! :D

“Hello, hello, Zachary Vengeance.”

And there it is, the haughty, nasally voice of 2005 Warped Tour’s littlest ball of chaos.

“What do you want, Iero?” says the Vengeance in question.

Zacky is packing up the merch booth after a long day of smoking, drinking, and rocking out. The guy that usually handles their merch happened to meet the girl that handles Hawthorne Heights’s merch in line for the bathroom and they hit it off. He slipped Zacky a rough $20 bill and a smooth baggie of weed to finish off packing their merch so he could finish off merch girl. Their merch guy had a good taste in buds so Zacky agreed.

Sure, he would’ve preferred to be doing literally anything else with his evening, but $20 is $20. 

Frank hops up on the table that once displayed A7X t-shirts and pulls out a smoke.

“I thought we were friends, Zachary.” He says innocently, but there is a smirk staining his lips as he lights it.

Zacky looks up from where he’s crouching and narrows his eyes at him. “You want something.”

Frank inhales then blows out a curtain of smoke. He looks down at Zacky through the gray fog. “I just wanna chat.”

With Frank Iero, chatting is never just chatting. Just as infamous as he is for being a little shit, he’s equally as gossiped about for being an unapologetic slut. Rumor has it that he’s been trying to sleep through every band at Warped that summer and that he has an actual little black book to keep track. Really, Zacky should have been wondering what took Frank so long to get to him. Zacky is hot, right? All the girls tell him he's hot. Either way, Frank is here now and Zacky is sure he knows what he wants.

Zacky tosses a shirt haphazardly into a box and stands up. “Was Gerard not available to chat? Or Adam? Or Sonny? Or James or Patrick or Jepha or Matt or… Bob?”

Frank winces and gives a slight nod of the head in confirmation of the final name.

Frank takes another drag and makes a poor attempt at a smoke ring before replying. “Nope, all booked up.”

Zacky sighs. “Our merch guy and Hawthorne Heights’s merch girl currently have the run of our tour bus, so unfortunately I’d say you’re shit out of luck.”

He goes back to pulling merch down from the displays and organizing it into boxes.

He smells the secondhand smoke, the only indicator that Frank hasn’t left. He’s tempted to ask to bum one, but he’d rather finish packing and load the boxes into the truck quickly so that he might be able to catch Syn and M at whatever bar they’d ended up that night.

It takes Frank a while to smoke through the cigarette, during which Zacky works in awkward silence.

Frank never responded to his comment about the merch couple fucking on the tour bus, so maybe he's still weighing his options. Maybe he's trying to figure out how he could ask to join them. Either way, he should think his lewd thoughts somewhere else, because Zacky can practically hear Frank thinking them. 

Eventually, Zacky turns to see a bored looking Frank stamping out the last of his smoke under his dirty black sneaker.

He looks up at Zacky as if he’s expecting him to say something. Zacky holds his arms out as if to say, “I literally have no idea what you want me to say.” They talk in gesture for a while before Frank breaks the silence.

“Well, as fun as this conversation is, I’m really horny and had planned on sucking your cock, so.” Frank crowds into Zacky’s space. It might be intimidating and even sexy if Frank wasn’t so fucking short.

“Told you, bus is ocupado right now.” Zacky reminds him.

Frank looks around into the early evening air. There’s pretty much no one on the grounds, with everyone off to shower, sleep, party, fuck, or all of the above. “Well, we could do it right here I guess?”

Zacky's brows furrow. “In public?”

Frank may be promiscuous, but Zacky didn't expect him to be well, desperate or kinky. Or both.

Frank reaches for Zacky’s belt. “Yeah, dude. Just get your dick out. No one’s around. It’ll be fine.” He says like it's not a big deal, which it is.

Zacky bats his hands away. “What? No.”

Frank just rolls his eyes and looks behind himself. A little chaotic lightbulb goes off in his head. Zacky eyes him cautiously as he backs up to the merch booth table and sinks to his knees. He fits perfectly underneath it. The Avenged Sevenfold banner hangs in front of the table, so technically, he’s perfectly concealed. The table has to fit a bunch of boxes underneath it, so, it’s hip height as well. This idea wouldn’t be impossible to pull off.

Zacky takes a packed box and places it on top of the table, which would conceal his torso for greater security. He looks down at Frank, huddling underneath the merch table, black hair hanging in his face, lip ring shining against the booth lights. He licks his lips, making his mouth look wet and fuckable. It’s starting to look a lot more “yes” than “no” to Zacky.

“I still don’t know. What if someone hears us?”

A winning smile lights up Frank’s face. “Well then you’ll have to be extra quiet then, won’t you Zachary?”

Frank grabs Zacky by the hips and pulls him forward. He’s jolted and has to brace himself against the box of merch on the table to keep himself from falling over.

Frank’s nimble hands make quick work of Zacky’s belt and jeans. He pulls Zacky’s boxers down just enough to pull his dick out.

It happens pretty quick. One moment Zacky is weighing whether he wants to have sex in a merch booth in public. The next, Frank's got his hand on his cock. He doesn't have time to give it a second thought as Frank puts his face in his crotch.

Zacky’s already half hard as Frank licks his way from base to tip. He looks down and finds Frank staring at him wantonly. With the red makeup rimmed around his eyes, he looks almost demonic. The sight alone gets his dick to jump and he’s only half ashamed of it. 

Once Frank has wrapped his tongue around the shaft enough times for his liking, he takes the tip into his mouth, licking and sucking. 

Zacky lets out a pathetic whine and falls forward onto his arms on top of the box of sweaters.

Now, Zacky is 99% sure he’s straight. But it’s Warped Tour. Everyone is horny, everyone is hot, and everyone is at least a little bi-curious. Plus a blowjob is a blowjob, no matter who is attached to the mouth, it's never a bad thing to have. So, he doesn’t feel the least bit bad for how incredibly turned on he is at the very male guitarist bobbing his head on his dick. Frank may get around, but damn if he hasn’t learned to suck a cock like a pro along the way.

He’s trying to be as quiet as possible, only letting out tiny gasps and moans as Frank pulls out every dirty trick on him.

Zacky is floating, lost in the sensation when he hears someone calling his name. He looks up and sees one of the crew members rushing toward the booth.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

“Hey, Zacky.” The guy calls from afar. Zacky is pretty sure his name is Rick, but his name could be Shirley for all his brain could compute at the moment.

Zacky puts his hand up and attempts a greeting smile, hoping that’s good enough to ward him away. It isn’t. Rick keeps moving closer.

Even worse, Frank doesn’t stop moving.

Zacky grabs the back of Frank’s head underneath the booth, trying to still him so he can have a rational conversation with the guitar tech.

“You’ll never guess what happened.” Rick starts. He's right. He won't guess. He doesn't have the logical ability to guess at the moment.

Zacky doesn’t really catch the beginning of Rick's story. O, the middle for that matter. Because, holding Frank down seems to have had the opposite effect as intended. Instead of stopping, he starts sucking harder. His head in place, he flutters his tongue around his dick, stroking it forcefully where it sits inside his mouth. He blows him harder, like Rick’s presence is making this even better for him.

Zacky nods along to Rick's story, hoping to appear like he actually can tell what the fuck the kid is saying. He knows he looks strained and sweaty. He’s just hoping that he can write that off on post-show fatigue and Rick doesn’t come round to investigate what’s under the booth table. That would be mortifying. Frank just keeps going to town on him.

“And now he’s covered in puke. Just covered in it. It smells something awful and you can even kind of tell what food he had for dinner. Disgusting. Anyway, I was sent out here to see if anyone could spare some free clothes. Do you have an extra shirt or something?”

Zacky nods furiously. He’s at a merch booth, of course he has fucking shirts. He has shirts for days. He has shirts and patches and oh god, he can’t finish his thought because Frank takes the moment to swallow Zacky into his throat. He’s so wet and warm and tight around his cock and he really doesn’t want to cream in front of this poor tech who didn’t ask to see his orgasm face.

So, clenching his jaw shut as tight as possible so as not to let out a telling sound, Zacky reaches into the box in front of him, having only half an idea what's inside and pulls out the first thing his hand touches, holding it out to Rick.

It’s a sweatshirt.

“A sweatshirt? I know beggars can’t be choosers, but it’s kind of hot and muggy out. Do you have a t-shirt by chance?”

His grip is iron tight as he shoves the sweatshirt back in the box. Why can't he just take the sweatshirt? Why can't he just let him be? Why did Zacky agree to let Frank blow him under the table. The feisty little fucker was sure persuasive when he had his lips on his dick. Zacky accidentally whimpers.

“Of course.” He says, face burning.

Rick looks at him curiously. “Are you ok, Zacky? You look like you might need a medic as well.” 

Rick lets out a small laugh and Zacky tries to return it, but fails miserably, letting out a noise that sounds closer to a sob instead.

“I have a shirt right here.” He says, needing the interaction to be older immediately.

He looks around his feet and finds, miraculously, there is a box of white deathbat shirts under the merch table. If only he could reach down and grab one.

Of course, when he looks down, he also finds Frank, who is looking as used and debauched as anyone would expect him to in that moment. He’s got spit and tears running down his face and his lips are red as cherries, stretched wide. His pupils are blown out and look into Zacky’s soul. He never though he'd say this, but damn Frank looks pretty on Zacky's cock.

He gives Zacky a wink and lets off his dick a bit to reach over and pull out a shirt from the box. He hands the shirt to him and sinks right back down.

Zacky slams the shirt down on the table and pushes it forward. He’s so close to coming. He feels like he’s been teetering the edge the entire time since the tech showed up. He wants to come so bad but he holds himself back, has to hold himself back for everyone's sake. It’s driving him insane.

Rick becomes distracted from Zacky’s general well-being and grabs the shirt. He holds it up in front of them, examining it. “Perfect, thanks Zacky!”

“Anytime.” Zacky croaks. Ricky rushes off, forgetting the state of him, thankfully.

He waits until he can no longer see the tech before letting go.

“Thank god.” He breathes out the breath he’d been holding. “You little fucking shit, that wasn’t funny.”

Zacky looks down to see Frank still drooling on his cock. He grabs the back of his stupid little fauxhawked head and presses him further down.

Frank chokes as the head unexpectedly hits the back of his throat. He sputters, but lets out an audible moan.

“Oh you like that, huh? Like choking on my dick? You liked having me in your throat knowing someone was watching, that he could’ve found you at any time?”

Frank lets go of Zacky's thighs and lets him thrust in. Zacky’s losing his mind in lust, fucking Frank’s face without inhibition, chasing that high that’s been so close but just out of reach.

“I bet you wanted him to find us, find you. I bet if he walked back here and saw you gagging on my dick, you would’ve come in your pants right there.”

Frank moans again and it vibrates up Zacky’s dick. That’s what pushes him over the edge and he stills, coming into Frank’s gorgeous mouth with a sob of relief. Finally.

Zacky has to close his eyes and take a few breaths after that, but he soon lets his soft penis slip out of Frank’s mouth.

Frank falls back onto his butt and quickly brings a hand to the obvious bulge at the front of his jeans. He palms himself fast and eager. It’s not even a minute before he lets out his own high-pitched whine, coming in his pants.

“Fuck.” Frank says.

“Fuck.” Zacky returns. 

Fuck indeed.

It takes Zacky’s brain cells a few minutes to return to his head from his groin and as they do, he remembers to tuck himself back into his jeans. He is in public after all.

When Zacky looks down, Frank is still crouched on the floor, but he’s produced a notepad and marker from somewhere. 

“Unicorns?” Zacky asks.

Frank flips through the pages in the little book with pastel unicorns on the cover. It looks like something Lisa Frank would have sold to preteen girls at a book fair, not something one kept track of their illicit affairs in. Not a black book after all. Zacky can’t say he’s surprised.

He finds the page is looking for and with the marker, makes a black x on the paper. Zacky isn’t sure what’s written there and he isn’t sure he wants to know.

Frank flips the notepad shut and stuffs it in his pocket, along with the marker. “I don’t know. I stole it from Mikey. Or Pete. Who knows, they're one in the same at this point.”

He looks up at Zacky with tired and satisfied eyes. He wipes his mouth, still wet with spit and cum, with his shirt sleeve. He holds his hand up for Zacky to take and he does, pulling him up.

“So, who’s next?” Zacky nods toward the pocket with the notebook in it, curious.

Frank twists his face in contemplation, looking up as if he were mentally weighing his options. “Not sure. Whoever’s staying in a hotel tomorrow I guess. I could use a shower and a nap in a real bed.”

Zacky shakes his head, not fully understanding the guy, but respecting him nonetheless. He knew what he was about, and he didn't hold back. That's pretty cool to Zacky.

Frank just smiles and pats Zacky on the shoulder.

“That was fun Zachary. Let’s do it again sometime.” He says cheerily, then walks off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Zacky watches the tiny silhouette of Frank Iero make its way from the merch area over to the My Chem bus. He’s a bit entranced by him, still waning off his blow job high.

He snaps out of it and remembers the merch that needs moving into the bus. Better do it quick, he figures, he’s gonna need a damn beer and that baggie of weed after that.

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up three weeks late with starbucks* am i too late for the prompt challenge? 
> 
> I started writing this for Warped 2020 but then I moved and didn’t have wifi and was a general hot mess but… I still wanted to write it… so here it is… *cricket noises* (my prompt was merch booth)


End file.
